


reheated chuck and aged scotch

by becausethathappens



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, But Make It Literal, Hand Jobs, Huddling For Warmth, I Would Die For You, M/M, Similes, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:53:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28147890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becausethathappens/pseuds/becausethathappens
Summary: Rhett and Link buy Josh a walk-in freezer. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17
Collections: Mythical Secret Santa 2020





	reheated chuck and aged scotch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChibiTabatha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiTabatha/gifts).



> Happy Mythical Secret Santa! Hope you like this version of unhinged Josh as much as The Boys do. 😉❄️🎅

&&

Josh loves this part. 

He’s about to hit the perfect temperature on the short order grill for making the perfect steak sandwich.

Nothing ever melts as well if the meat doesn’t start at this wild -- _emergency room burn_ hot -- start temp that is not really achievable at home without the right appliance upgrades, in his opinion, and he thinks the industry knows it. But, hey, gotta keep pizza places and sub shops in business. Not like he’s gonna disagree with that sentiment. Luckily, he can achieve this with a nice steel short order he got for a Will It? years passed, but he doesn't like setting anyone up to think they're going to have a perfect final product without the proper tools. 

What you _can_ count on is being able to still achieve freaking delicious steak sandwiches with just the basics, though, so don't let that stop you.

He loves everything about grilling meat. Including the ritual of waiting for the surface he's cooking on to peak heat before throwing his steak on to rapidly sear to juicy perfection. It's also always fun to throw a little water on the steel and watch the drops skid. He loves when the air sizzles as the beads of water evaporate -- like setting an alarm for the present time and just letting it blare -- it really just makes him feel alive.

He ponders, unwrapping the meat for his dinner, if he should try to find the bread he brought to work to make sure no one took it before he starts. If he’s going to have to improvise what he's eating this in, better to do so from the start. He’s here late working on a new recurring recipe concept that's best brainstormed in a quiet office which only happens after five some days and he's learned it’s best to get dinner out of the way while he has the energy to make it taste good. 

He’s savoring the smells of the kitchen brought back to cloud his senses by the warm heat of the grill when he reaches over to wet his fingers under the faucet and repeat the movement and try a hand at that 'feeling alive' thing he's so fond of again when the door to the kitchen pops open behind him. Loudly. 

It’s an aggressive and rough way to enter the room and he almost spurns whoever does it when Rhett’s upper half see-saws downward into his view. 

“Oh, hey, boss, what’s up?”

“You eat, yet?”

Rhett’s eyeing where his hand hovers above the grill trying to ascertain if he’s starting or ending the process of making a meal. 

“‘Bout to. Care to join? I have enough to split if I whip up a side or two?” He really doesn’t mind cooking for two and it would be nice not to eat alone with his phone as his plans were looking like about sixty seconds ago.

“No, no,” Rhett says. 

Rhett waves Josh off where he's paused, cartoonishly frozen in a non-verbal ‘ready, set’ position he loves to use to amp a vibe. 

Josh swiftly goes along with Rhett's response instead, blinking away his posture with a smile.

“As far as I'm concerned, if you’re here as late as the boss, rule is: he cooks.”

Josh just nods and lobs his figurative bat at the softball. “Thank God Link went home.”

They both chuckle. 

Rhett makes a show of leaning back out the door to tilt his head back with the amusement, only his fingertips are visible for a moment. 

“All right, you sit tight,” Rhett says, when he's back in Josh's periphery.

Josh flexes jokingly and sing-songs back, “Always.”

Rhett turns around and walks away, genuinely cackling out into the big open office space as he walks between empty desks and chairs to the front entrance. 

Josh can’t help but fist pump a little as he hears the door clang shut as he goes.

It always feels good to put in a little face time with the boss. Heck, it’s a sentiment so socially acceptable, it's probably something both him and his dad would agree on, actually. Hell, maybe even something him and _most_ dads would agree on. 

_Most_ dads being a group with whom he did not, probably, on the whole, agree with often. This was entirely based on how a lot of them treat Josh when he runs into them in the few places he sees dads in the wild anymore like: the gym, restaurant take-out vestibules, or hardware stores. He's happy to be proven wrong.

_We’re all just working stuff out in public, now, right?_ He thinks so. It's the vibe for the whole freaking company, as far as he's concerned. Sometimes he feels like he’s the only one who watches their stuff.

&&

Josh probably should’a known that when a boss stays late and cooks you a meal for doing the same, that boss also might have some conspicuous dude show up with a delivery of two prime cuts of steak that -- from the size and secrecy -- must cost more than his electric bill.

“Door Dash?” Josh asks, genuinely curious.

Rhett shakes his head _no_ with a look on his face like he's been waiting his whole life for this scenario to occur. “I’ve got a guy.”

Josh’s head tilts with amusement, he nods the direction of the entrance. “Oh, that him?”

“Spoken like someone who has no guys, “ Rhett shoots back. 

Josh gasps because that actually stung a bit. _What a delight._

Rhett parts his mouth, holding a look, waiting for Josh to hopefully read the playfulness in his face if not the sardonic tone in his voice.

Rhett laughs and clears his throat. Now they're back down the hall and into the kitchen. Josh watching as Rhett pulls his phone out and turns Spotify on shuffle, already opening the butcher paper to unfurl gorgeously marbled Wagyu rounds. 

Rhett hums along to what Josh's ignorance of jazz and mild knowledge of Rhett's tastes supposes must be Coltrane, playing loud, through the speaker on his phone.

There’s a very long silence where Josh has time enough to think how Rhett can stand it. The silence.

Then he remembers that Rhett is still from North Carolina, end of the day. 

The occasionally zany energy he puts out a portion of the time on the show and in bursts while mirroring the energy Josh or others bring to their day to day interactions are constant, but he can also do _this_. Long, amiable, lived-in silence that lingers in the room while Josh just stares, a mix of awe and terror. 

Josh relates it to the memories he has of the only situations he's been in that rival it and thinks to that time he had to sit and wait for a traffic cop to take an incident report _with_ the guy who rear-ended him and wouldn't admit fault and when he watched, of course, _Link_ read an entire book in his office. 

At the time of the second and actually, all things considered, _more_ unsettling experience of the two, Link was letting Josh crash in his and Rhett’s office while the kitchen was under construction and the chef space was overrun with staff prepping there instead of the kitchen. Link's original invite was delivered on set, but when Josh showed up at the time to eat lunch, Link was already eating, and they only nodded hello. 

Once Link finished his cup of vanilla pudding, he picked up a short anthology of poems -- at least a couple hundred pages -- from his desk, and proceeded to read _the whole freaking book_ , cover to cover, without saying a single word.

It genuinely might be the longest he’s ever been in the room with someone, awake, and not spoken. In his entire life. 

He would bet either Rhett or Link could both be left alone to talk to a brick wall and find a way to make it entertaining for themselves. Yet, on the other hand, they also felt no urge to fill a silence, and it’s always a trip outside of Josh’s comfort zone to experience firsthand.

As is the suffocating feeling of seeing Rhett delicately slice the still warm but now-rested meat with a chef’s knife and plate it for him. It's perhaps an inappropriate image to allow a chef to have of their boss. 

_Listen, those arms in just a black Hanes tee and jeans?_ Josh thinks. Rhett's hair is pulled tight with a little bun just long enough to curl making his recently trimmed beard look even more commanding. He wants to snap a picture and go viral because, yeah, if this visual is making him a little dizzy then the internet's liable to throw a fit over it. 

Once he gets a good look at the plate, he beams at Rhett, taking in a gorgeous filet sliced over the asparagus and a dollop of mashed potatoes for the gains. A man after his heart, truly. 

There’s a reverence to the whole presentation that is unfortunately shattered the second he starts eating it. Because then it’s almost all gone, right away, because of course Rhett’s a great cook. _Hard to mess up that Wagyu, sure, but still._

The whole experience has him reeling. He’s confused, kind of horny if he’s honest with himself, and loving every minute of it.

Rhett begins with his first ulterior motive and pitches a food line of home meal kits that are actually good and sustainable. _Proceeds to food banks._ Josh's thumb goes up. _Special ways of shipping to keep things cheap but still cold._ Two thumbs. 

He nods because every word out of Rhett's mouth is like someone showing up to his house with a big cardboard Publisher's Clearing House check, one, then another, then a third. 

He really can’t believe how casual these guys are about the way they are with people. Rhett's all like, _let me cook you an amazing meal and continue to fund your dreams and hey, let's involve charity just for good measure just because, no big._ Just an average weekday meal break conversation.

“Yeah, man.” Josh says, finally finding the words. “Count me in.”

Rhett’s smile is shy, but happy. “Yeah? What, the fridge?”  
  


In addition to the cut he and team will be offered, there’s also talk of installing a trio of hot boxes for reheating and a custom-built walk-in. Both are a take-out menu-centric culinary chef’s greatest gets and he’s over the moon. 

_Money he’ll take, sure, but toys?_ All the new shiny things they’ll give him, he’s down for them all. It's finally seeming like they get it. He comes in early and stays late. He’s in for the long-haul. 

“All of it,” he says, easily.

&&

Rhett bursts through the door with another armful of old props. 

They are consolidating to a new storage facility and while the staff is tasked with moving the majority of items from one place to another, Rhett and Link have sentimental attachment to enough things that negotiating to have them spend a couple hours thinning out the collection was welcome. The pair spent the morning labeling the stand-outs as _Must Keep_ or _Burn This_ as necessary and pulling out the _Why Is This Even Here_ s to bring back with them. Somehow, of all the things they get pitched by staff, Rhett is least surprised that organizing things was so quick to find a bullet on Link's proposed weekly agenda for the executive team. 

So they end up back at the office with whatever odd things leftover that they have need for tucked haphazardly under their arms. This is the stuff that didn’t fit in the first two boxes they’ve already carried in.

Spring cleaning -- but in the middle of the summer -- ‘cause that’s just _how they roll_. 

Luckily, the weather outside was brusque enough that Rhett has kept on the long jeans he wore after his workout that morning. There was a very high chance he would have switched to bermuda shorts, otherwise.

Link hasn’t seen the new walk-in and Rhett is wondering where he’s gotten to, since they’re the only two here this late any night, let alone a Sunday, when the staff is off. He was planning on giving Link the tour of the slightly edited digs.

He's barely inside five minutes, hanging things up in the wardrobe closet, before he realizes that Link is fully missing and tries to call his phone. He tries a third time before he realizes it’s going right to voicemail even though it makes a double ring noise in the beginning like it’s actually going through.

In a bit of a panic, he calls out Link's name, sounding to himself like a dad who realizes he hasn't seen the top of his kid's head amidst department store aisles, he starts to look around the building in an effort to trace back where Link should have followed him. He finds an abandoned box of props that includes a massive chef’s toque that he really wants to give back to Josh to do something with next time they shoot together.

Instead, he’s realizing that Link is still missing and he needs to think about where Link would have gone. When suddenly Rhett feels stupid: the walk-in. 

The walk-in was all they were talking about on the drive in and although Rhett had planned on giving Link the full tour himself, there’s no doubt his partner wandered off to see it lonesome.

He slips his phone back into his pocket and opens the door to the kitchen to find Link. With the sound of the cold air pumping in through vents above even Rhett's head, it's no wonder Link couldn't hear him calling out.

He’s barely made it halfway into the propped open door of the walk-in when he rolls his eyes. Link is hunched over a basket of lettuce and radishes, moving things around, grunting. 

Link has a very specific aesthetic vision for certain places and things, especially anything that could end up on camera for the brand, and is not and has never been afraid to walk into someone else’s place and start rearranging. It’s just his nature.

Rhett wants to laugh, but when Link looks up he just smiles. “Nice, ain’t it?”

Rhett takes in Link wearing the parka he’d no doubt left after a shoot last winter. It’s the same coat he has kept on and off set for years. It’s huge fluffy lining makes Link look tiny but warm inside.

“Chilly, ‘ya ask me. Also I think that we should have only put dry vegetables together, you know? Can’t that cause mold if they’re together with leafy greens?” Link opines to himself, Rhett, and more so to the room absent the chance to ask the chefs that put them there.

“Wouldn’t they know better than us?” Rhett speaks as if he's hearing Link's own thoughts out loud.

“I guess. Good thing we’re still in charge,” Link continues, shrugging back from where he is, reorganizing the produce. 

Suddenly there’s a slam. They both look at each other aghast and bolt to the door to find it sealed shut and unmoving. 

“Okay, where’s the emergency release handle or whatever fancy doodad you splurged for?” Link asks, trying to act casual. His hand moves for his cell.

He holds up the phone and steps back. Allowing time enough for him to pull his contact list for first Josh to see if he has instructions on getting out easily.

Last anyone else has heard their whereabouts, Rhett and Link were clearing out the props from storage, dropping it at their work office, then getting dinner and drinks, eventually crashing at whoever's won rock paper scissors for alcohol privileges and was not the designated driver. This way, the next morning, you only had to drive home and the other person could bring their car back. 

It was the last thing on either of their racing minds, Link frantically moving around attempting to get service.

Rhett looks up and checks the internal temperature gauge. He could swear he watches it drop from sixty to fifty-nine degrees. At least propping the door earlier had warmed the place up a bit. He’s sure he’s camped in colder temperatures.

“Any luck?” he asks as Link continues to try his phone. Nothing.

“No service,” Link says, seriously. 

He pulls the head of his parka back so he can see better. Rhett can’t help the impulse. He pulls it back up and when Link fusses with him, he holds his hand. “Keep the head in right now, Link, we don’t know how long we’re stuck in here, yet.”

Rhett just wants to be prepared for the worst. 

&&

Well, _it’s the worst._ Or damn near it. Good thing he had lowered their expectations. 

Things progress quickly since they’re lifelong partners at everything including and especially not limited, right now, to engineering their way the hell out of dying next to a pound of eggplants. 

Unfortunately, when Rhett does splurge on a nice walk-in, _it’s a nice walk-in_ and after almost an hour of work they’re okay doing since it keeps their blood pumping, they're still coming up empty.

More unfortunately, they abandon trying to plan something like they did trying to call people when they realize it’s not working because they’re in a fortified steel coffin. They decide to take a break and wait to conserve energy.

“I just need to sit down for a second, for my back,” Rhett admits, finally. 

He has been doing the most of the talking and jumping around in part because although he made a few joking comments about Link’s parka to start, he’s really starting to get envious of it now.

It’s not long before Rhett’s teeth are literally chattering. He shoves his hands between his jean legs on instinct, something he used to do after nights that he fell asleep with his window open. Early mornings waking up covered in dew, neck stiff, limbs propelled by cold, fighting to warm them like they might fall off otherwise. Though those were usually under the fabric. Now, with Link staring, he’s tempted but just rubs his hands between his cold jean-covered thighs frantically trying to spread the warmth through friction. 

“Rhett, you take a turn with the jacket,” Link hedges, careful. He knows as well as Rhett does that it’s not good for either of their hearts to be in cold for this long, even without the WebMD articles his phone won't let him review without service. Neither wants to admit they don’t know enough about science or medicine to figure out exactly how much danger they were currently in. 

He really hopes he doesn’t find out, if one of the teaching methods appears to be first-hand experience.

“Nah, Link,” Rhett says, teeth making his words coming out stilted and deeper than his voice normally sounds. “All you, bud.”

“Rhett,” Link says, frowning. 

Suddenly feeling tired, Rhett decides in his frustration that maybe napping would take less energy and oxygen (they blocked some of the vent with assorted food and while the oxygen might have thinned it's stuck at fifty-two degrees, now, without the influx of more cold air) so he’s actually better off just closing his eyes for a minute. 

&&

Rhett comes to with Link on top of him and also -- he doesn’t know how else to describe -- inside of him. It’s an odd sensation. 

He might even moan a little because he’s confused and disoriented, but it’s also evident that he’s hard as a rock in his jeans. _Great._

Link turns to look at him and the movement wakes him further and he feigns distraction on instinct. 

_Rhett_ , he thinks to himself. _What the hell else would you possibly be thinking about right now?_ Dying suddenly felt like an in-kind investment. When Link leans back the curve of his ass flits across Rhett's lap. They both moan together the second time he does it. 

_Is this a dream?_ he wonders, absently.

“Rhett?” Link calls out softly, above him. 

Rhett realizes now their extreme closeness. Link has tucked Rhett into the coat behind him. Rhett feels for his hands, finding them inside partially on his body, one tucked down his pants. Link’s head is overwhelmingly close in the pitch black darkness that has engulfed the sunny walk-in previously. The office's interior lights have gone off while in energy saving mode and the glass window that couldn't be broken (even with a random skillet they found under the potatoes) no longer added any visibility beyond a faint glow from either the moon or a streetlight in the distance.

Now, the sensation has shifted to feel as though they’re freezing in space, not a commercial refrigerator.

Link is also still inside the body of the coat, barely, the zipper probably straining to keep them both together without bursting.

Immediately realizing the direness of the situation, Rhett tries to get small -- he’s done it his whole life, he isn’t really successful, but he’s tried it all -- he smooths himself very tightly in every nook where Link’s body lays touching parts of his. Now is not the time for modesty.

It’s then Rhett realizes that Link hasn’t caught on to several other ongoing issues. First and foremost, Rhett is still rock hard and Link needs to stop shifting around if that's gonna end. It's a small concern in their current big picture, but it also makes concentration challenging.

“Am I dreaming?” he says it out loud, this time.

Much less confident than he seems, Rhett tucks his chin near Link’s shoulder, and it’s awkward but feeling Link's face on his cheek while Link talks is almost like seeing his face. 

“You were, yeah,” Link says back. “I’m only saying this because I wanted you to know how your hands got there, but I think you’re touching yourself a bit, bo.”

They both blush at the comment. Rhett doubts either has blood or heat to spare, but he still feels warmth race to his cheeks. He can’t remember for the life of him why they’re even in this position. Link crowding him and making him sweat. “Yeah, I’m --” Rhett’s not pretending otherwise, anymore.

It feels deliriously good to feel heat again. A part of him wants to grind up into Link again pointedly to make sure Link can feel the heat radiating there, too, all through his midsection and keeping him alive.

&&

Seconds turn into minutes before either can bring themselves to break the stance or speak. 

Instead, Link accidentally grinds into him more and more trying to find some way to share a coat and moan into Rhett’s movements that’s less intimate. There doesn’t seem to be one.

_That’s what this is, right? Survival._ Rhett's mind is going a mile a minute. 

Rhett focuses on the only things he can make out from where he's tucked behind Link's head so close. The glimmer of something reflecting off an edge to Link's glasses. The smell of Link's Self Absorbed (he remembers this from a joke he edited out of the vlog at both the brand and Link's expense) shampoo. 

“Should we--” Rhett starts, then realizes he should clarify. “Do we need to conserve energy, you think?”

“Rhett, you’re not dreaming,” Link says, sounding odd. 

Rhett realizes Link’s hands are still down the sleeves of the coat, which is why his limbs are not close enough to feel him start, on instinct, moving a hand along his dick through his underwear. 

“Link, I am maybe not your best cuddle buddy right now, listen…” Rhett trails off, really hoping Link will understand him. 

Link says nothing but he grinds down closer to Rhett’s dick. Rhett then realizes it’s not a grind but a shudder. The smallest seep of cold air breaches their sweaty bubble and Rhett realizes Link's arms are plugging the sleeves but that's where the cold is still finding them.

“Pull your arms in, Link!”

Link snaps out of it for a second and does as asked and soon Rhett can feel the lingering cold from his hands radiating along the front of his jeans. 

“Put your hands down your pants,” Rhett says, next. He’s not really filtering himself with Link still sputtering too much and not responding normally to Rhett's liking. 

Link yelps, but then he feels the warmth that Rhett is sure mirrors his own. Link starts sighing and squirming. This close to Rhett, Link's every movement makes the taller of the two want to buck up into where Link sits in his lap and also definitely bite his neck, but he can’t even tell why. Protective instincts are going into hyperdrive, he rationalizes, because maybe that's a thing.

“Am I allowed to help warm you up?” he says, meekly. Uncaring how goofy it sounds but there's a lot of uncomfortable questions that fall under that purview and when Link groans an approval Rhett grunts with excitement. 

Rhett dips his hands outside where his dick is now twitching against his thigh in time with his thudding heartbeat. Then suddenly, just reaching his hands into Link’s waistband, he finds Link’s dick practically jumping into his hand. Maybe Link didn't realize his meaning, based on the frantic and clumsy jolting his body does upon this contact, but he quickly and aggressively settles. Link's own hand comes down to grope at any part of Rhett it can touch -- mostly his hipbone and can only just flatten his palm over the tip of Rhett's dick -- from their tight angle.

Rhett runs his hand down again and again with such care that it's not long before Link is shaking and writhing around on top of him. Rhett is so close behind him, literally and otherwise, that he starts to see stars. 

At last, the way Link has put them in the coat starts to dawn on Rhett. It’s backwards and so that Rhett’s head against the wall is the only part not sealed off from outside. He's sweating now, but in the back of his mind he again wants to grind up into Link in thanks. This time he's less shy and does it with a groan Link mirrors.

Every lick of their lips and throaty gasp is audible as they share breaths inside the reversed hood. Link seems to know how to angle the back of his neck against Rhett’s throat by touch alone, finding a way to drape body over Rhett's even more than it's been up until now. His head rolls back so that he can use Rhett's right shoulder as support.

It’s like they’re one person with eight limbs and two dicks.

The feedback loop is so close quarters that Rhett starts to forget where one begins and the other ends as they rock back and forth, one on top of the other.

Rhett’s barely had time to think it over before he’s coming with a spine-curving shudder and he feels like his arms are back outside the coat again for a moment before he realizes he’s just soaked in sweat and then that Link still has to finish. 

Rhett leans forward, his beard back on Link’s shoulder. “Let go, Link. Let it go.”

Rhett licks a wet kiss to the back of his neck and Link spasms, saying, “O-Ohh!” again and again, five or ten times in a row. Rhett can't hear great, his ears still ringing since he came.

If this is how they go, then Rhett can’t think of a better way to end.

As soon as Link grunts out a pornographic sounding whine, signaling he’s finally finished, too, there’s an incredibly loud bang and even though their world is still dark, a gust of air pushes into the walk-in. 

Link realizes their predicament and headbutts the backwards parka hood. 

It flops down comedically to reveal them to Josh and Josh to them, all sets of eyes blinking rapidly. Josh is looking at them, head sideways. 

“What the hell?”

“ _Josh_!” they scream again _so much worse_ when the door to the walk-in immediately shuts behind him. 

__

__

Josh rolls his eyes and huffs over to the emergency latch. He makes a show of doing things neither of the other two men got to before conserving heat became the priority. 

__

__

Josh shows them how to put code into a small keypad that appears when you find the right part of the wall that pops out with the box. 

__

__

“The irony of the email reminding people to watch the instructional video before going inside the walk-in by yourself without senior staff close-by being sent by your guys’ joint email and written in your corporate but personal tone is not lost on me,” Josh says, darkly but with genuine concern still evident in his plea.

__

__

“Chase sends those emails,” Link says, distracted enough to volunteer the unrelated fact.

__

__

They’re still sitting on the floor in a heap, hoping Josh won’t wonder too much aloud or otherwise about their positions. Until they’ve had time to discuss it further.

__

__

In three quick moves, Josh types the right six digits and they all sigh as the walk-in makes the sound cue that it has depressurized the door. The lock then makes a loud clanging noise: problem solved. The door reopens and pops slightly ajar until Josh pushes it open fully. “How long, exactly, have you been in here? I thought I'd be first one in.”

__

__

Rhett is waiting for Link to get up first so neither forces the other to stand up unnaturally. He silently thanks Josh's work ethic for basically saving their lives. They’re distracted by this enough to forget to answer (or, more honestly, avoid) the question entirely. 

__

__

Josh realizes then that they’re still stuck on the ground and perhaps now struggling to get up. 

__

__

“Need a hand?” he offers his along with the question, smirking.

__

__

“Not anymore,” Link says back, still high on endorphins after what has just went on and sounding suddenly guileless. 

Rhett shrieks in amusement, giving Josh his left hand, anyway. Link beams in his direction. Rhett's oldest, rarest laugh Link can recall -- honest-to-goodness -- high-pitched _guffaws_ bubble up like music notes surfacing from the bottom of a well. 

__

__

Together they negotiate upwards until they're standing on their feet, unsteady but finally warm.

__

  
  


__

&&

__


End file.
